


Not the first time

by seekingjets



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pre-War Cybertron, alcohol consumption, club antics, orion is unfortunately well versed in this, starscream a stock model mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 07:08:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17198885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingjets/pseuds/seekingjets
Summary: Orion Pax has run into Starscream before. More than once.





	Not the first time

**Author's Note:**

> Don't take my MegaStar membership card from me pls.

Pre-War StarPrime(Pax) thought…

Orion Pax has run into Starscream before. More than once.

 ---

Unfortunately one time in particular was due to Ironhide and Jazz dragging Pax by the moral compass to the edges of Kaon. They want to celebrate his promotion. They want to spoil their favorite Sergeant with gritty energex in chipped canisters. They want to drown him in the sight of swaying frames drawn in organic lines (as is the fashion in Kaon) until Pax might actually slip and be normal for once.

No stuffy student, no longer a twitchy cadet. They want and hope some flirty mech, modified to vibrate under hand, can give their Orion a good time.

Orion is mortified, of course. He’s citing regulations and code of conduct all the way past rusty doors. Tossed careless into the throb of overlaid beats. Flashing colors and swinging limbs as the (Bar? Club? Law suit?) carries on in full swing despite his objections. Orion only can sit back in a corner booth, wishing Ironhide could complete his paperwork as swiftly as he procures drinks. Bright, frothy vermilion in cups cold to the touch and static on the tongue.

Jazz is of no help and if he hollers to giggling patrons (with their colors rearranged to highlight obscene carved hips and decorative glyphs delving between glossed thighs) one more time to “come and get it” while motioning to Orion’s pelvic area one more time…Orion is going to write up an official reprimand.

This has to qualify as kidnapping. Perhaps even attempted murder (as he will die if he’s bullied into drinking one more chunky shot that slithers down his intake and sizzles the tanks.)

They won’t let him leave until he’s “having fun” but Jazz is quick to sneak off to the dance floor at the first opportunity. Wedged between a broad chest and someone with huffing smokestacks which leaves the cramped club hot and suffocating. Vents whining to filter the smoke and gasping exhales of folded bodies and sticky floors. Lamenting his pride now washed away in the funk and tact clinging to his frame as foreign servos find the audacity to grope what they can as they pass by.

“Ya havin’ fun?” Ironhide grins, mouth damp with drink.

“You’re under arrest.” Orion answers and doesn’t appreciate the deep guff of a laugh in return. No one should be able to make that noise, not when aiding and abetting a crime. He’ll suffer for now, but even as Orion slinks forward to dodge a friendly squeeze from a passerby, he’s preparing for the look of betrayal on Ironhide’s face come the next shift after Pax refuses to complete the administrative portion of their work for his dear friend.

Then Ironhide smacks his waist and it’s like a blunt weapon knocking into his frame, leaves him choking and reeling as his partner motions across the flashing lights and displaced bodies. Orion tensing. Expecting an obvious danger in their reach, ready to lunge at the closest threat…

Instead he spots wings.

The pale frame and violent shine of red effortlessly divides the floor with a confidence Pax is stilling trying to fake. Body paint bright and catching the colorful lights, casting a neon wildfire across strutting wings. The comfortable sway of red hips and matching optics which trail light as they gently survey the world before him.

Casting judgement and finding the offering of the universe wanting before a prideful sneer.

“Well damn, never seen a stock model look so…” ‘Hide trails off, likely because Orion’s mask has snapped shut with a startled hurry. Ironhide doesn’t have much time to question it due to the impending doom as the seeker draws near without much prompting.

“Hi.” Ironhide is a confident mech, strong and stubborn. But pretty things are blinding and he’s certainly distracted by the glossy thigh pressed against their table.

“Buy me a drink.” The seeker orders and doesn’t lift his gaze from Orion’s figure - which only gives Ironhide the wrong idea.

“I’ll take my time.” He winks and shuffles up and out before Pax can drag him back by the scruff. Awkward silence managing to fill the void between the newcomer’s cut smile and Orion Pax sitting at an angle in the booth trying to survive the scalding seeker’s stare.

“Officer Pax.”

“Starscream.” Pax shifts in his seat uncomfortable by far, looking towards the crowd for both Jazz and an exit…finding neither.

“Haven’t seen you since you tried arresting me not a few blocks away.” The seeker pressing pale blue servos on the grimy table, spreading elongated digits until the metal of the table sang with vibration and Orion withdrew further into the booth.

“Haven’t seen you since you shot me resisting arrest.” The bright quirk of Starscream’s smile shouldn’t send his spark to do a funny little pulse, wavering in response to the seeker’s amusement. Orion wasn’t seriously injured but showing up, blasted arm and no suspect in hand, had been a rough day at the station.

Starscream decides it’s perfectly acceptable to sit down, likely realizing how uncomfortable it will make Orion Pax. Body moving in a neat shuffle before falling loud and heavy into the space at Pax’s left. Posture curved towards Orion who wasn’t and never will be a small mech. The edge of his elbow joint tickles the glass of the seeker’s canopy and it feels indecent with the undulating crowds of the dance floor not a stretch away.

“Of all the stuffy cops out there, you’re the last one I would expect to be slumming it.” Starscream speaks and the surrounding space quivers. Perfectly symmetrical face, literally one of hundreds, moving to rest a neat chin against the perfect curl of his own palm. “You know what this club is famous for? I didn’t guess you were into that kind of thing.”

“Not my idea.” Pax answers quickly, then recalculates. Always a danger not to consider each and every one of the criminal’s words before giving too much. Starscream was a mid-level crook with a magician’s touch for getting out of trouble. His rap sheet practically a history lesson in “what not to do”. Yet nothing sticks and nothing ever holds the seeker down. “What kind of thing?”

“Don’t worry,” Starscream and he have history the same way a splinter embedded deep into the under dermal layer has history with its host. Not too much a pain until agitated…but never truly forgotten. “I can tell you’re not having fun.”

“Why are you here?” Stupid question and the seeker finds it funny. Shifting to swing legs up and over Orion’s lap, leaning back into the curve of the booth as he watches with delight the expressions the masked-Pax can run through before settling on  _slightly disturbed_  and  _unsure what to do with his hands_.

“Me? Just enjoying the view.”

“Starscream…”

“Don’t tell me you’re still mad about getting shot?” Starscream’s glossa peeks from his mouth, teasing while Pax is left to catch Ironhide’s shape from the bar, giving him two thumbs up for all the wrong reasons. Starscream’s heeled turbine digs into the plating of Orion’s thigh and he wants to relocate the pedes to the floor - but shoving them away would be rude. Surely that’s his only reason for resisting the urge.

“It wasn’t getting shot that upset me.” He responds without thinking and that’s the worst thing you can do in the face of that smile. That all-knowing clever little devil disguised as something warm and pretty you can never own. Orion was distracted by that smile once, let the seeker curl in and hold tight as the loveliest snake in all Cybertron spilled a sob story that had his spark weeping and a flare of protective nature scorching his logical core.

Orion hadn’t noticed at the time of the arrest that Starscream slipped the cuffs. Hadn’t noticed because he was busy with a processor full of heroic acts and flashing white wings fluttering lovely and exotic before him. It was an interesting picture, bulky him with the curvaceous and venom tongued seeker whispering desperate and beautiful all the things a would-be savior wants to hear.

Rookie mistake.

Highlighted by the fact Starscream shot him the moment Orion shuddered with the brush of a mouth against his jaw.

“Oh? That?” Starscream seems to know Orion’s shame, pulls himself closer by the anchor of his legs across Pax’s lap. He’s clearly no more than an obstacle course for him, he’s sure. Orion still allows it somehow, still bewitched by that pretty thing in the wild night who whimpered for his help with a stunning act. “You can’t still be mad about that?”

“I’m off-duty.” Orion tries cutting him off, face guard secure across his features and hopefully that gives a sense of disinterest. Of false fortification against the seeker who is all but curled in his lap, knees brushing intimate and familiar against Orion’s side. “But were I not…”

“Oh officer!” Starscream gasps and a few lingering patrons turn their gaze in voyeuristic curiosity. “I’ve been good little jet, I promise.”

“You?” Pax chuckles despite himself, wondering if Starscream can see the grin he so desperately wishes to hide from the world. (Not the world. Just from Starscream who has a way of looking at you with the promise of wanting and enjoying anything he sees.) “Unlikely.”

“You’re handsome when you smile.” Optics flicker to the mask and dim when it remains in existence. Gathering himself up and wings stretch wide against the cramped space. Red lights of his gaze blurred and streaking across the flowing lights causing him to appear ethereal in the flashing room. “You know, it’s a shame you won’t come to play without your friends dragging you. I think we could have some fun.”

“I’m still an officer of the law.”

“We all have our flaws.” He purrs and Orion can feel it against his field which settles hungry over the seeker’s frame. Resonating and responding. Sending a gentle pulse to work its way up Orion’s back and nestle deep into his over-extended processor. “Maybe next time.”

“Likely not.” Orion finds his voice lacking as the other rises to stand, heel digging into the seat between Pax’s thighs with expectation. Forcing him to accommodate the change and out of instinct Pax reaches to cup the backs of blue detailed knees and ensure the jet’s stability.

Starscream stands tall and warm above him, a bouncer or bartender yelling in his direction to “sit the frack down” as the pede between his leg ghosts intimate plating. Devious and curled smile worn like a crown, just as dangerous as the rest of him.

“Well then, you better get me in cuffs next time.”

He almost answers eagerly, slouching grip as the seeker dips and hops down from the booth - ignoring the bartender’s scathing reprimand for walking on the furniture. Giving an impolite motion to emphasis how little he cares. The thrumming crowd and blinding lights agree with Starscream, all chaos and motion as he gives a final glance over the delicate wing before parting the crowd once more - vanishing from sight in the shifting bodies and hungry stares.

Orion exhales a sound he hadn’t known he was clutching, both proud and mournful of the brief encounter. The officer in him knowing what a danger the seeker was…the dreamer thrilled by it. He hardly acknowledges his partner’s return, Ironhide grinning from gear to gear as he plops down in the booth. Elbowing Pax with a proud laugh that is nothing compared to Jazz’s struck expression when he’s finally reeled from the dance floor to ensure Pax survived.

“It’s nothing.” Orion lies, shrugging off ‘Hide’s assumptions or Jazz’s disappointment that he didn’t follow the seeker out. “It’s not like that.” He assures, hoping the display at least would give him room to encourage their departure from the wild atmosphere.

“Hey man, I’m just glad he wasn’t causing trouble.” Jazz chuckles, chugging something bright and green from thin tubes brought to him by star-speckled fans of his dance floor performance. “Pretty thing like that? Seems evil.”

“No, he just…came to say hi?” Orion guesses. He’s not versed in what a  havoc-hungry seeker might get out of crawling into the lap of the very cop who tried to arrest him on multiple occasions. Perhaps there’s a challenge he can’t understand. Perhaps he’d like to. But just stopping in to “say hi” wasn’t a very Starscream-like behavior….

“He stole from you didn’t he?” Jazz waits until Orion checks his accounts, gagging at the multiple digits withdrawn and the lingering signs of a proximity hack subtle but still there. Like a rough edge against his coding as grating as the seeker’s voice.

“That…little…” Orion was already lunging over the table before the bartender could complain, heavy body shaking the floor as he moves broad and fast towards the direction of Starscream’s swift escape, Only hoping he can catch him before taking flight.

Handcuffs at the ready.


End file.
